Epilogue

There's a patrol heading our way.

“Sir, we have a problem,” the guard at the door stated as he stuck his head inside the crudely put-together shack.  There wasn’t much inside the shack besides a cot, a crude table, two chairs, and the man sitting at the table.

The man was rather unremarkable. He was not quite six feet tall, with sandy blond hair, hazel eyes with black bags under them, an…